


Holding Court

by machka



Series: Anodyne [7]
Category: Bandom: Axium, Bandom: MWK, Real Person Fiction, Tulsa Gangstas
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-21
Updated: 2009-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machka/pseuds/machka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're not strong enough to hold on to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Court

**Author's Note:**

> Dandy through Jeff's eyes. As noted above, this falls into the _Anodyne_ universe, but it runs parallel to the current storyline rather than linearly.
> 
> Written for prompt #6 on the [Tulsa_Gangstas](http://community.livejournal.com/tulsa_gangstas) Prompt Table of Creativity: _Coward_. Cross-posted to [Davandy](http://community.livejournal.com/davandy).
> 
> Oh, and [**misskatieleigh**](http://misskatieleigh.livejournal.com/profile)? This is all your fault. :P Thank you for looking at it and giving me your opinion. :)
> 
> Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. The events described therein are not intended to represent actual events. No libel or defamation is intended in posting said fictitious work.
> 
> In other words, it's not real, because I made it all up.

You can't help it.

You know you're being irrational. You hate him -- hate _them_ \-- for all the wrong reasons.

And it's certainly not his fault.

How could it be? He never sees others' admiration of him for what it is. He never understands how it could be for him. He's just not that way.

Of _course_ it's not his fault.

It's _never_ his fault.

So you stand at his right, as always, as ever; and _he_ stands on his left, the intruder, the interloper, the one taking him away from you.

That _foreigner_ looks at him, laughing, and you feel a wrenching pain in your chest as his face lights up from within.

There was a time, once, when he looked at you like that...

Like you were important.

Like you were his whole world.

Like he cared.

It's been years since you've seen it.

You wonder if you had just imagined it.

It's not right, damn it.

It's not _fair_.

You know what will happen. It always does. You almost know it better than him, because for years you've been his rebound. Always there, and that one constant in his life: the one to catch him when he falls, to pick up the pieces when he shatters, to put him back together again, to make him whole...

But you always let him go, watch him leave with whomever's next in line, knowing what will happen and powerless to stop it.

And here, _here_ is the next one, the newest one, the latest one, and they're getting closer; _growing_ closer; and it's the same as it ever was, except it's _not_ \-- even you can see this is different somehow, that look in his eyes, the slow flush spreading across his cheeks, the smile on his face -- so different, so unexpected, and so, _so_ frightening...

...Looking at _him_ the way he never looks at you.

So you cling to him.

You're _smothering_ him.

You don't mean to.

You just can't help it.

There are times now when he looks at you, when you think maybe he knows. You think you can see something in his eyes; not really a question, not quite an accusation, maybe just confusion, you honestly don't know...

And so you tighten your grip, all sheer desperation and impotent rage, but you only seem to drive him further away.

You glance sideways across the stage, throwing daggers with your eyes, your lips curling back in a faint snarl, thinking poisonous thoughts at the outsider on his left.

 _You can't have him._

 _You'll never take him._

 _He's not yours._

 _He's mine..._

But in your heart you know he's _not,_ and you even know why.

It's because everything you think you've done, every thing you think you'll ever do -- nothing, none of it, could ever really make him whole, for one simple reason.

You've never once fought for it.

For it, for him, for his love -- _nothing._

And you're too much of a coward to start now.

You can't help it.

You're not strong enough to hold on.

And you know you'll always let him go.


End file.
